


Rendezvous and Farewells

by patska



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Het, Ratings: PG, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3094202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patska/pseuds/patska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future is always covered with a haze. Even those, who use the Force, know - events which they see during meditations are not stable. Nobody knows beforehand what is awaiting them. Captain Piett didn't know it as well. But the Force already prepared for him a meeting that will change his whole life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> During decades of life with Star Wars we automatically get used to think that one and all in the Empire were consummate villains and all members of Alliance – irreproachable heroes dressed in white clothes and riding the white banthas. I suppose that such situation isn’t really possible, especially during war, and we mustn’t stain all Imperial people with black colour. Therefore I don’t like The Lord of the Rings and love The Witcher by Andrzej Sapkowski; down with black-and-white plots, long live stories tinged with all colours of the rainbow! 
> 
> I started reading Russian-speaking fandom and soon found that 49 percent of fanfics are written about Anakin leaving Tatooine with Qui-Gon Jinn and Ben Kenobi; little Skywalker continuously cries till the end of the story and Qui-Gon with Kenobi console him telling that he will surely become a Jedi and his mother will be released from slavery. In another 49 percent, I’ve read about Padawan Kenobi infusing tea for his master Qui-Gon. Especially I don’t like nuances of slash in such fanfics. Remaining 2 percents tell stories about unknown characters from the Expanded Universe – Mara Jade, Callista etc. At least I generally found exactly these proportions of the plots.
> 
> Lucas so carefully developed characters of all main heroes that we don’t have enough space for our imagination (and I don’t like OOC). Expanded Universe is SO expanded that I will spend years and years to study it thoroughly. The prequel trilogy and Clone Wars aren’t particularly interesting for me; Luke, Han, Leia, R2-D2 and C3PO were my friends during childhood and only the Old Trilogy movies are canon for me. Therefore I decided to pay attention to other old heroes – but neither Luke (Solo, Vader, Leia and Boba Fett etc.) nor even Jabba. But to whom?
> 
> Among a few fanfics written in Russian I read quite a wonderful story named “The puppeteers” (unfortunately it is not translated into other languages or even finished). One of the heroes is admiral Piett. At that time, to my shame, I didn’t remember who he was in the movies, so took my DVDs and re-watched Star Wars original trilogy one more time. And then it was a eureka! 
> 
> Lucas in the original trilogy showed us in detail only the rebel side while on board of the Executor were three hundred thousand crew members and everyone had an unique story. There are many-many stories about Rebels in our fandom; we can find them in each fanfics’ archive or site dedicated to Star Wars. Several fanfics are written about the Empire and Imperial troops, but nobody told us anything about one of their commanders. 
> 
> What can we learn about admiral Firmus Piett from The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi? Next to nothing except the fact that he managed not to enrage Lord Vader and successfully survived between Battle of Hoth and The Battle of Endor. I looked at this character from the other side: why Grand Moff Tarkin, General Tagge and other onscreen Imperial officers weren’t so terribly afraid of Vader, when admiral Piett expressed such an evident insuperable fear? Admiral definitely wasn’t a coward; an obvious scaremonger could not get such a high rank on the army’s or navy’s job ladder. Then why he is SO afraid of Vader? I caught tip of this idea and very carefully pulled it, the result of this operation is my fanfic, Rendezvous and Farewells.
> 
> My native language is Russian and original fanfic is written in Russian as well. That’s why I’m absolutely sure that you will find some syntactical, punctuation and grammatical mistakes in this translation. I hadn’t speaking practice for a very long time and continue to improve my English only by reading different articles and reviews in Internet and watching movies without translation and with subs, but it’s not enough, I know . 
> 
> I decided to upload the not beta-d first chapter (totally there are twelve chapters), and you, my dear readers, tell me – is it obligatory to find a Beta who will fluently speak both English and Russian or you quite well understand my translation?
> 
> I want to apologize beforehand for all possible mistakes that can be found in the first chapter and hope you’ll enjoy the plot! 
> 
> Feel free to ask questions about my characters and to write your reviews! I will surely answer everyone!

One day you’ll meet a stranger  
And all the noise is silenced in the room  
You’ll feel that you're close to some mystery.  
In the moonlight when everything shatters  
You feel as if you’ve known her all your life  
The world’s oldest lesson in history.

_Sting, Until_

 

“Long live Emperor Palpatine! Long live the Empire!”

 

Wilhuff Tarkin, one of the most famous Imperial Grand Moffs, stretched out his hand, holding glass with the best Naboo champagne, to the wall, where big silk flag of sombre black and dark red colourswas hanging.

 

“Long live Emperor Palpatine!”

 

People gathered in a huge conference hall on Coruscant unanimously repeated the Grand Moff’s appeal. Men were dressed in army and navy uniforms, women – in evening dresses. Everybody simultaneously raised glasses and clinked with their neighbours with ardor and joy. They celebrated another – already twentieth - anniversary of the First Galactic Empire.

 

Captain Piett took a sip of champagne with all other guests, carefully keeping on his face cheerful expression proper to the solemn situation. Everybody knows that during such grandiose celebrations, attended by supreme command of the army and navy and majority of Moffs and Grand Moffs, many agents of Imperial Security Service are concealed in the crowd. They vigilantly listen to the conversations, looking for those who do not show enough enthusiasm in expressing allegiance and loyalty to their Empire. It was rumoured – of course, these information was not fully reliable – that if somebody contrived to blurt out anything suspicious or was insufficiently happy to be a little gear of the Great Empire, the ISS agents immediately started to keep watch over him. Then some discrediting evidences were found. After that, he or she invariably vanished, leaving others to think up different version on the sly. Only the ISS knew what happened then to the disappeared person, but everybody was definitely sure that nothing good. And discrediting evidences were always found – it was only a question of time.

 

“If we dig a little deeper, we will find that we all have finger in the pie”, thought Piett and raised his glass, greeting vaguely familiar commander from the General Staff. Commander was so swelling with pride as if Emperor Palpatine himself decorated him with an order.

 

Piett never liked triumphant crowds. What pleasure can be found in such a noisy, gregarious joy?

 

When he entered the Academy, he was too young to understand that he will work for the Empire; and how exactly he will work.

 

He simply wanted to fly.

 

He was carefully keeping devoted and solemn expression on his face and thinking that if he knew that in the end he was fated to become an officer in the General Staff at Coruscant, he would by all means botched up two or three most important graduation exams just to spoil his personal file and he would still have been patrolling his home Axxila sector in Outer Rim Territories as commander of antipirate fleet.

 

Piett’s considerable successes during antipirate activities automatically draw attention to his humble person of the personnel department officers of the General Staff. They were so impressed with his service record that recommended such a promising young man to the Imperial top brass. Naval bosses quickly made a decision to promote Piett to the rank of lieutenant – at age of only twenty-six! – and transferred him to the Imperial fleet.

 

After a couple of years some final and irrevocable changes happened in the destiny of Firmus Sorel Piett – no flights any more. Now he has a private office in the General Staff at Coruscant instead of the shining nebulas and changeable glitter of stars behind transparisteel viewport in the command deck. His office is tapping and scanning by the ISS during all twenty-four standard hours. Instead of the comparative freedom within Axxila system’s limits he must permanently obey bosses with different level of petty tyranny and live in theclutches of field manual.

 

If someone compares his life on home Axxila and working on Coruscant, the latter theoretically is a wonderful beginning of a brilliant and breathtaking career. But study and analyze reports until remote dismissal? And see the same boring faces for more years and even decades? Now Piett sometimes regretted falling of the Old Republic – at that time students decided themselves where to go after the Academy, in merchant fleet or passenger traffic. The Empire never ever interested in someone’s opinions or wishes.

 

After each month that Piett spent on Coruscant he became more and more oppressed by his current status and wanted… What? For a long time he tried to analyze the situation and find an answer but in the end relinquished this idea and bowed down.

 

He has quite a good salary in the General Staff and almost cannot spend it because of the permanent lack of free time. At the moment of dismissal he will have a considerable sum on his banking account, so he will not be dissatisfied by the financial state. He categorically don’t accept gambling, drugs and other excesses; the only hobby he has – old paper second-hand books about the Galaxy’s ancient history that he buys from time to time. He was interested in those times since the Academy.

 

Nobody will ever let him go back to command deck, to attractively glittering stars behind transparisteel viewport – he’d already understood it very clearly. Naval bosses are fully satisfied with his work and drop some hints about Piett’s quick promotion. He must be totally pleased with his fate, but why then he cannot stop thinking that he wants something else from his life? That he wants something very important and necessary that looms on the edge of his mind but vanishes when he is trying to concentrate on it and catch the meaning.

 

Piett sighed. He wanted to be home most of all, away from this loud, crowded and uninteresting mob. But the anniversary had just begun and he should endure it at least several hours, until supreme command decides that it’s enough. Or until supreme command gets drunk enough to get back to their apartments.

 

Piett still had no close friends in the General Staff. He preferred relationships necessary only for his work that can be prolonged in the canteen with some twaddle and drinking a couple of glasses of Corellian whiskey. And now – to say honestly not only now – he had nobody to have a heart-to-heart conversation. He did not want to start talking about immense achievements they made, about strength of the Empire and greatness they provided her by their loyal and devoted service! Such propagandistic and demagogic jabber stuck in his gizzard after the very first year that he spent in the General Staff.

 

“Perhaps I should get drunk”, melancholically thought Piett, vainly trying to find in the crowd at least one man that will not be uttering boring maxims and therefore will not provoke grinding his teeth. When bosses began such speeches, he was obliged to listen patiently, but torture his mind with others’ humdrum now? He is fed up with it!

 

Piett’s eye caught only lieutenants or officer having a higher rank. He really did not know what to do; and idea to get drunk was only an idea. He elementary did not like drinking too much and if wanted to, preferred one glass of good wine during long evening alone, only with books and manuals. On the other hand, if he finishes this champagne that cost many credits to Coruscantian suppliers, maybe he will become a little more cheerful?

 

He drunk champagne at one gulp, trying not to screw up – it is interesting why everybody like this exported from Naboo sparkling sour-tasting stuff so much? – put the empty glass on a tray of a serving droid and decided to find his friend captain Lorth Needa. Piett saw him in the crowd when they all where entering conference hall. Piett met Needa a few years ago – he, as always, delivered information to the staff analysts after returning from the regular military expedition. Piett always comparatively easily sustained Needa’s energetic chat. And then suddenly heard following words among scraps of different conversations:

 

“…on the ground of pre-design and experiments we’ve got such results: if we reduce energy consumption at ten-fifteen percent then the efficiency of the shields of both types will increase almost at twenty percent. This gives reactor additional power reserve. Well, it’s not very much and I repeat – this is preliminary study and you shouldn’t think about these rates with too much enthusiasm. We still continue our work.”

 

Piett was a little surprised – the voice belonged to a woman.

 

Officers were accompanied with their wives and mistresses during meetings and celebrations that civilians were allowed to visit. During his service, Piett heard hundreds and thousands conversations of officers’ wives and daughters and was absolutely sure that only very few of them could know phrases like “additional power reserve of the reactor”.

 

Then, this voice doesn’t belong to somebody’s empty-headed girlfriend, but to whom? After the crush of the Republic and foundation of the Empire, the softer sex began serving in medical troops, logistics, ground communications units and bureaucratic jobs in the rank not higher that lieutenant. A common servicewoman couldn’t obtain admittance to such a significant festivities like the twentieth anniversary of the Empire that is celebrated in the main conference hall of the General Staff and is attended by all Moffs, Grand Moffs and army’s and navy’s superior command staff.

 

He turned around and in couple of steps away from him saw a woman in a long blood red tight-fitting evening dress that was standing out against gloomy grey Imperial uniforms. Her light-brown hair was plaited in high sophisticated hairdo; in her ears Piett saw long earrings shining with diamonds. He could not see her face; she was talking to a group of officers not familiar to Piett.

 

He decided to go closer but Needa suddenly appeared from somewhere and grasped his elbow.

 

“Hey, are you bored as always? I just have met a commander from technical service. He somehow found out where my ship will be send after modernization of our hyperdrives that is scheduled on Fondor. Promised to tell me everything he knows. I don’t want to pursue ordinary smugglers in Hutt Space!”

 

“I think you have a sudden attach of heroism”, stiffly answered Piett, displeased that Needa distracted him from something more or less interesting in the conference hall. In addition, deep down, he envied a little – Needa’s fleet was permanently travellingacross the Galaxy, what meant at least a little variety. And he will be always sitting in his office studying documents and reports.

 

“Want to continue hunting the rabble and sometime become an admiral?”

 

“It would be great!” Needa grinned, put his empty glass on a tray of a serving droid, took a full one and dreamily started, “I will have a star destroyer at my personal command…”

 

“… and you’ll immediately run into a nearest moon”, Piett just could not stop himself from saying that. He once found out that Needa’s marks in the Academy, especially in astronavigation, were mostly poor.

 

“Well, and you, such an exemplary officer, some day will surely become an admiral”, Needa quite sensibly jabbed his fist into Piett’s ribs, “Maybe even a Grand Admiral! And all women from Coruscant, Corellia, Kuat, Fondor and generally Galaxy will be at your feet, trembling from delight and happiness!”

 

Piett frowned a little and did not answer. He knew perfectly well that if he will become a Grand Admiral even twice and will be decorated with orders from head to foot, nobody will be at his feet. He had no illusions about his unremarkable appearance from the Academy time, where all scanty girls quickly felt in love with his tall, eloquent and handsome classmates. After several unsuccessful love affairs on Axxila and then here, on Coruscant, he became convinced that any attempt to establish long-lasting relationship with somebody – with all his intellectual and analytical capabilities – is idea not silly, but obviously hopeless.

 

Every day from early morning and till night he was studying documents received from the whole Galaxy, was developing plans of manoeuvres, writing reports and doing other bureaucratic things. All ladyloves where always demanding much attention, hysterically cried “you should spend more time with me!” and spoiled his life in other various and numerous ways. One day – Piett still was not sure lucky or not – after another quarrel he packed his things, left too excitable and capricious Correllian girl and gave himself a word that in the future he will not be get involved in more or less serious and long relationship. After that he had only brief and transient love affairs, luckily there where many undemanding and compliant women on Coruscant.

 

A stumpy fair-haired man with stripes of a commander from technical service – apparently, exactly he knew about next destination of Needa’s ship – approached Piett and his friend and started tedious story that his brother-in-law is an adjutant of a colonel, and this brother-in-law heard that somebody told someone that… Piett stopped listening to him after a couple of minutes. He was interested in a woman in red dress and did not care in which god-forsaken hole in Hutt Space will be sent Needa’s Eighteenth fleet.

 

When something was not clear for him, Piett immediately started studying a question or a problem thoroughly until he understood every smallest detail. Well, he did not dreamt of being a military analyst in the very heart of the Empire, but he had such mental structure when usage of logic and processing bulk of information content was very exciting and interesting during getting every problem’s solution.

 

And now he was filled with curiosity – who is this stranger in red evening dress and what is she doing here?

 

He turned his head a bit and started looking for bright colour among grey uniforms – he and Needa nearly did not move since he saw her the first time. There was not too much free space in the almost completely full conference hall and she could not move away too far from them.

 

She stood at the same place, now without a company, and was examining a huge military crowd of every stripe with an incomprehensible expression. Now she was not standing with his back to Piett and he saw her face.

 

He instantly and absolutely forgot about anniversary, Needa and his boring commander who still did not get to the main point, about unfinished report concerning latest Chandrila disorders that he must finish towards morning. He was standing and looking at her, and a line was repeated in his mind – a line from a silly and sentimental novel that he read many years ago in the Academy just for a giggle; a line that seemed so funny and ridiculous for him and all his classmates.

 

“…She was so dazzlingly beautiful that he stopped hearing, feeling and understanding anything in the world except one and only thing – now only she will exist for him in the whole universe, henceforth and forever.”

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Piett had no name in Old Trilogy. He got name only in 2012, in Daniel Wallace's The New Essential Guide to Characters. Wallace derived the name from the Latin word meaning “strong” or “reliable” (see Wookieepedia). That’s why I decided to think up my female character’s name similarly. “Ignis” in Latin means “light”, “fire” or “passion”. 
> 
> Feel free to ask questions about plot, characters and/or to write your reviews :-).

“…and going to Nal Hutta. Hey, Firmus, have you heard anything I’ve just told you?”

 

Needa’s question and another jab in ribs returned Piett from deep prostration. He saw the young woman – by eye she was about twenty-six or twenty-seven – she was painfully wincing and rubbing her temple. She was holding an empty glass that was noticeably trembling.

 

“Did you heard or not?” repeated Needa more insistently.

 

“What? Yes, I did. Very well,” answered Piett with unconstrained voice, because he already collected himself and stopped looking at the woman in red dress. “Hutts finally got out of hand? You will peacefully persuade them not to go too far by means of a little accurate bombing and twenty AT-AT Walkers with following landing operation?”

 

“No, our command doesn’t plan any bombing. At least at this stage,” Needa lowered his voice. “These caudate monsters recently had repartition of power. People on the margins say that new leaders of clans don’t want to fulfil old agreements with our Treasury that were concluded by their predecessors. We fly there as an unquestionable argument of Imperial rightness.”

 

“Very interesting,” muttered Piett. He didn’t care a damn receives the state treasury a regular bribe for not sticking its nose in Hutts’ business or not.

 

“Is that so?” noticed Needa sneeringly. “I think you’re more interested in observing this girl in red.”

 

“Accidentally heard what she said and became curious,” answered Piett with feigned indifference. He already restored his usual composure and steadiness. “It was something about shield generators. By the way, don’t you know who is she?” asked he carelessly.

 

“Maybe she is the daughter of one of our bigwigs, admiral’s, general’s or Grand Moff’s; otherwise she won’t be allowed to come here. Look, I think only her earrings cost as much as production of a TIE-fighter. I’d like to make a closer acquaintance of her; she surely has so many powerful relatives...” dreamily said Needa. “Marry her – and you will instantly have a brilliant career!”

 

Piett shrugged his shoulders – he never liked friend’s dream to do a career development by means of patronage and protection and without any personal effort. Piett had a suspicion that Needa appeared on board of his Star Destroyer exactly because of the protection.

 

“Come on!” chuckled Needa. “I know you don’t mind to flirt with her. As if I didn’t see how you was looking at her right now! But we have no chances; by birth and position we are too far from her. She will like a vice-admiral at the minimum. Maybe even a moff!”

 

Piett stealthily looked at the woman in red and saw a tall gloomy officer with army brigadier-general’s insignia. He leaned over the woman and quietly said something. She shook her head. The officer frowned, grasped woman’s elbow and appreciably raised his voice. Piett heard:

 

“What about your promise? When you will keep it?”

 

She immediately released herself – quite politely and gently and it didn’t seem bad-mannered – and stepped back, as if she do not wanted to stand close to him and to bear his touch. Piett and Needa were not far from them and both heard her cold answer.

 

“I am sorry, but I cannot tell you the date accurately to within a millisecond. Please, be patient, I have my own life and plans, which I cannot change at once.”

 

“And how much time do you need,” asked the brigadier-general angrily, “to take such an elementary decision, if we take into account your profession?”

 

“As long as it needs,” said she icily. “Could you, please, have the patience to wait; you won’t get my answer more quickly. Don’t pester me with your importunity, I start thinking that you got beyond bounds a little.”

 

“I got beyond bounds?” officer’s displeased face become even more wry and angry. “You hadn’t so long tongue when we talked to your uncle! Well, we will see what is going to happen!”

 

He turned round, roughly shoved people around him and went away.

 

The woman for a moment followed him with her eyes, then flinched and loudly said with despair:

 

“Why? Why he and why now?”

 

Needa bent to Piett and wanted to whisper him something, when the woman suddenly turned to them. Both stood still, Needa because of unexpectedness, Piett – because his heartbeat became very rapid and he had a cobweb in his throat.

 

She very attentively looked at Needa and then shifted her glance to Piett. He stood there, looking at her, and understood that the young woman is not a picture of beauty in a classical meaning of this word. He met such magnificent ladies that all men irrespective of the age were turning their heads towards them.

 

This woman wasn’t like those ladies. She had oval face, greenish-brown eyes, not very plump lips, now covered with a red lipstick, a bit curved nose, a little wrinkle near her right eyebrow as if she often frowns – all these features separately were quite ordinary. But in total, she made a stunning impression on Piett, so stunning that he instantly forgot all skills of a polite conversation. He was desperately trying to think up a natural matter for chat until their mutual silence will become impolite. But he even doesn’t know her name! He couldn’t directly start asking her about shield generators. Maybe, tell something neutral about Imperial anniversary?

 

But it was she who broke the silence, neither Piett nor surprisingly silent Needa, who usually very simply was making a chat to women. Something elusive flickered in her eyes; she smiled a little and said to Needa:

 

“Captain, excuse me, I don’t know your name. Would you be so kind and bring me a drink, any beverage at your discretion except Corellian whiskey and champagne? I don’t feel like going through this huge crowd,” and she smiled again, “please, do me a good turn.”

 

“Y-yes, ma’am, of course. Right now!” Needa perfectly well felt intonation of a rich woman who is used to give orders, felt it in spite of impeccably polite tone of her voice. He made a bow and obediently went away. When he appeared behind her back, he gave Piett a wink – go ahead! And Piett in turn supposed that she sent Needa away under the pretence that she wanted to have a drink. But he couldn’t guessed, though he tried his best, why she needed it.

 

“I want to apologize. You and your friend witnessed my talk with brigadier-general Tagge,” said the woman in red. “I was introduced to him not long ago, and I already want to take somebody’s blaster and shoot him. But it will be too quickly and easy,” added she with sudden bloodiness. “By the way, captain, my name is Ignis Tarkin.”

 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am Tarkin, I am Firmus Piett,” he presented himself, bowed and started thinking – should he, to observe etiquette, kiss her hand or not? As if she guessed his thoughts, she smiled:

 

“Don’t be so nervous, I’m not grand-moff Tarkin and don’t demand to stand at attention and without a flub report a twenty-paged statement about perfectly done work. What do you think about famous Naboo champagne everybody goes overboard about?”

 

“Honestly? Not very impressive.”

 

“Agree,” she nodded. “I prefer Alderaan red wines, in good company and in amount not exceeding one glass.”

They stood silent for a moment, watching the crowd that was more and more cheering up.

 

“May I ask you, ma’am, how are you related to grand-moff Tarkin?” at last inquired Piett.

 

“Thanks to all gods of the Galaxy, I’m not his daughter,” she pulled a face. “He and my father are cousins. I’m standing here only because of such high-rank relative like uncle Wilhuff,” there was not even a shred of warmth or respect in her voice. She paused a little and added some strange words that Piett didn’t understand. “On the one hand this was very bad, and on the other – unexpectedly good…”

 

“What could be bad in the invitation to Imperial anniversary?” wondered Piett and only afterwards realized how ambiguously in sounded. Ignis Tarkin definitely had a bad influence on him, but she either didn’t notice his words or preferred not to pay attention to the unwilled implication.

 

“What? Ah, was just thinking aloud. My exclusive, I can say family problems,” signed she. “Where do you serve, captain Piett? In which fleet?”

 

“I’m not in a fleet anymore for quite a long time. I was transferred to the General Staff and now work here, on Coruscant,” said he naturally, trying not to show his gladness too obviously. The possibility to exchange a few words with her, to be near her a little longer was a great gift for him. “I’m an ordinary armchair general and deal with analytics. Ma’am, may I inquire where do you work? Tagge talked about your profession with too much… expressivity.”

 

“You want an honest answer?” she chuckled. “Uncle Wilhuff thinks that my place is on Eriadu, in Tarkin family’s mansion. I should wear traditional clothes of our planet, walk stately through rooms, watch foolish broadcasts on Holonet and visit our silly neighbours. And I spent five years in Imperial Institute of Higher Studies on Ferrhast where studied subjects that a girl from a respectable family must not even hear about.”

 

Piett couldn’t suppress a grin – he knew that on many planets girls from rich and powerful families spent their time exactly like that. She smiled in response:

 

“Captain, don’t you know? Men think that women should be occupied just only with their families and shouldn’t thrust their noses farther than instruction of a kitchen droid.”

 

“I dare say that not all men suppose so. What did you study at Ferrhast?”

 

“I won’t enumerate all the subjects, but will tell you theme of my diploma,” slyly smiled she. “Interaction of star corona or protuberances with deflector shields”. Oh, I beg you not to faint!” humorously exclaimed she, while Piett was trying not to be too much amazed. In the first place, he girl from rich and noble family studied in Imperial Institute of Higher Studies, and in the second place, studied _such things_?

 

“Well, this is very interesting and necessary theme, ma’am,” said he. “Apparently, you mean those unfortunate pilots who, because of the navigation system failure, leave hyperspace too close from the star?”

 

“No. To be more precise, not only because of the failure. Sometimes because of inability to input correct data and coordinates in the on-board computer. These mistakes happen more often than everybody thinks. I work at Kuat shipyards for a few years from now, in one little construction department where we try to improve operational factors of shield generators and, at the same time, to reduce power consumption.”

 

“And why you became interested in such… unusual subject?”

 

“Let’s be candid – unladylike subject,” she laughed. “When I was a little girl, my father often took me and my mother in his business trips. I frequently visited cockpit and watched how pilots worked, and always asked questions. Captain of one of the shuttles once informed me how many dangers can waylay a ship in the open space, from the possibility to leave hyperspace too close from a star corona and finishing with a stray asteroid or volley of pirates. He didn’t want to scare me, of course, just saw a sincere interest of a young passenger. I became so engrossed with the information that began to study all materials available for me at that age. In the end, I found myself on Ferrhast. You should see how most representatives of the Tarkin clan were boiling over when I entered the Imperial Institute of Higher Studies.”

 

Piett guessed that she still is frankly pleased with her relatives’ discontent.

 

“They definitely would prefer to see you in the living room with your friends, sitting and discussing how tasteless and vulgar is the dress of your mutual acquaintance,” defined Piett.

 

“You hit the right nail on the head, captain!” cheerfully answered she.

 

“What about your parents? What did they say about the profession you have chosen? They lost their cool too?”

 

Ignis Tarkin felt sad and answered only after some time:

 

“Father and mother are missing not long before I finally decided to fly at Ferrhast. They disappeared on their way back from Tepasi to Eriadu. We still don’t know what happened to them. Our clan thoroughly rummaged our and adjacent sectors, checked all pirates and smugglers whose routs could run across possible rout of father and mother, but in vain. We have only suppositions. Official versions are the sudden breakdown of the ion engine with the following explosion or the malfunction of on-board computer that ended with leaving hyperspace in the wrong place. What the irony of fate, isn’t it?”

 

Piett mentally kicked himself for needless interest:

 

“I beg you pardon, ma’am. I shouldn’t have asked such questions. I was far gone in my curiosity,” quickly apologized he.

 

“Don’t mention it,” now her smile was very faint. “It happened long time ago and I don’t feel very sad when somebody asks me about my parents... Oh, here is your friend coming,” she notices Needa in the crowd and added with irritation, “speak of Angels and they flap their wings.”

 

Piett clearly detected discontent in her voice. He summoned up his courage and said:

 

“Ma’am Tarkin, if you don’t like somebody’s presence, then, maybe…”

 

“Not somebody’s”, she answered immediately. “Only your friend’s, I’m sorry to say so. He is too overconfident and fussy.”

 

Piett couldn’t but agree with these words and wondered, how she guessed Needa’s individuality while it was the first time she’d seen him.

 

“I knew that he wouldn’t get anything but champagne, and hoped that he will continue further search,” quietly explained Ignis. Then she turned to Piett, looked straight in his eyes, hesitated a little and continued. “To be honest, I want to talk with you only – from all this company. Confess, captain, you feel the same, right? Or you will deny it only because of prejudices and upbringing dogmas that were knocked in your mind ages ago?”

 

Piett was caught utterly unawares. He tried to consider a proper answer, but Needa already approached them, reported that champagne is running out, cocktails run out an hour ago and droids offered him only whiskey. And he is apologizing for not getting another drink and not fulfilling ma’am Tarkin’s request. While Ignis was politely answering Needa that nothing terrible happened and she is not thirsty, now Piett was trying to invent a reason to get rid of Needa.

 

On the one hand, he categorically couldn’t concede that young, well-educated, beautiful woman from the noble family would become enamoured of him, the ordinary staff captain with utterly ordinary appearance. He couldn’t even with his enough rich and ingenious imagination. On the other hand, her attention was another chance to stay with her a little longer, to listen to her voice, to remember how she frowns when she is displeased with something, how she smiles and has dimples on her cheeks...

 

The situation was rescued by Needa’s another friend, a commander of the fifteenth fleet. He pushed himself through the crowd, respectfully apologized to Piett and Ignis that he must take away their interlocutor because of one important and urgent matter, and they both left. Piett saw that Needa was bursting with curiosity; then he plucked up his courage and began:

 

“Ma’am, honestly I don’t quite understand what did you meant when...”

 

Ignis gestured impatiently.

 

“Captain Piett, this conference hall has a balcony? Please, accompany me there otherwise we won’t be able to talk at ease. There’re so many people here and we constantly will be interrupted.”

 

“Yes, ma’am, it has,” answered he and said to himself that this is the queerest evening in his life. “We should go back to the entrance, on the left of it there is a door that leads to an open terrace.”

 

“Very well,” she nodded and took his arm. “Let’s go until my uncle caught us. He will surely lecture what should I do and what I should not.”

 

They adroitly made their way through excited guests, and Piett was intensively thinking how he should act when they will reach the terrace. Ask her openly what she wants from him? Maybe she is simply collecting admirers, flashed though his mind. He doesn’t know how noble ladies beguile with, especially ladies who are experts in shield generators. Who knows what kind of a person is Ignis Tarkin? Maybe, he is only another trophy that must be charmed passingly.

 

No, said he to himself confidently.

 

That’s impossible.

 

He exactly knew that there were not a bit of pretence or coquetry in her words and voice. Everything that she told him sounded sincerely and naturally. Their conversation was simple, plain, and relaxed and he felt himself just the same – except, of course, excitement from her presence, thoroughly concealed. It was ages ago when he felt like this while talking with somebody. As if he met someone he knows for a very, very long time, and there is no necessity to find out carefully – like flying through the asteroid field – during a conversation what kind of a person he is talking to. Then, in the name of all galactic gods, what will happen next?

 

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

They reached the entrance to the terrace and Piett pulled the heavy door made from natural Wroshyr trees. Nobody on Coruscant saved money on decoration of all important rooms and places; necessary materials and goods were imported from the whole Galaxy and nobody worried about their astronomical cost. Ignis passed forth, leaving a hardly detected trail of scent; Piett never liked when a woman who smelled as if she poured out the full bottle of perfume. He closed the door and followed Ignis; thick wooden leaf almost completely deadened all voices from the conference hall. There were huge panoramic windows in the wall between terrace and hall, but they were nearly always – and right now as well – closed with dense venetian blind. Sparkling and glittering panorama of a night Coruscant was the only light source for him and Ignis.

Ignis slowly came close to the laced railing. Hardly noticeable protective shield shimmered outside. Conference hall was situated on such breathtaking height that usual railing was not enough to guarantee safety. Piett was silently standing behind Ignis, looking at the curl that came out of her hairdo and was vainly trying to restrain sudden and silly desire. He irrepressibly wanted to pass his fingers over this curl.

Ignis raised her head and looked at speeders and flyers of all types and sizes that were sweeping past them in the sky.

"On Kuat a bustle like this is only on orbital shipyards…" she said in a low voice. "Captain Piett, have you ever visited Kuat?"

He came nearer and stood beside her, almost shoulder to shoulder, and tried to answer free and easy.

"No, I was only on Fondor, for a couple of months. We were under off-schedule repair of our Axxilan flagship – I was born on Axxila, if you heard about this out-of-the-way planet. Pirates damaged us a little during the last anti-pirate raid…"

"You started from chasing pirates?"

"Yes, and was chasing them so successfully that high-ranking officials on Coruscant decided that I will me much more useful in the Imperial fleet. Then I found myself in the General Staff."

"And now you regret that you don't fly across the Galaxy at breakneck speed hunting for suspicious persons," more affirmatively than interrogatively she said.

Piett thought about a little. When he was twenty-six, he was promoted to lieutenant and appointed to the Accuser, personal Star Destroyed of Darth Vader. He served there for a couple of years, was in plenty a witness how Dark Lord of the Sith worked with the crew, and tried his best and used all his contacts to be transferred in Coruscant's defense fleet. This place – in comparison with the Accuser were Vader monthly killed delinquent officers – was quite safe but, it must be admitted, boring enough. Who, of sound mind and memory, will attack the very center of the Empire that is ideally guarded and defended by the best army and navy forces?

And then he was transferred to the General Staff and finally said goodbye to flights.

"Frankly, yes, I regret. Sometimes," unexpectedly for himself Piett said.

He never shared these thoughts with his colleagues because perfectly well knew about the amount of denunciations that were delivered to the General Staff Special Department each standard month. A discontent at his current duty station could be interpreted like discontent at the whole Empire. Then why is he indulging in confidences with her? Only on the ground of a firm belief that she will not report anybody, and especially her uncle, or the Imperial Security Service, about their conversation? But he already said "Aurek" and there was no point in not saying "Besh".

"Although I am satisfied with my work in General Staff, it is not exactly what I planned to do after graduating Imperial Naval Academy. I didn't think about analytics when I was standing on the main bridge of my ship and pursuing the next pirate."

"I very clearly understand what you mean, captain. Unfortunately, we quite rarely have an opportunity to do what we dream of…" she said with incomprehensible expression. "Too often everything depends on other people and not us. But you must always try to surmount all the obstacles… Oh, I couldn't live here for a long time," she stepped back and shook her head. "What an endless traffic, my head is swimming. On Kuat I basically stay in the construction department and visit shipyards or firing ground only when we carry out an experiment. Here, on Coruscant, there is too much bustle, intrigues, hypocrisy, duplicity, envy, anger… They are everywhere, of course, but here, in the capital – in such enormous amount…" she winced and suddenly asked Piett:

"Tell me, have you ever thought about absolutely another life, captain?"

What kind of another, he said to himself, near you, ma'am Tarkin? If yes, he would like to. Very much so! But he learnt to proportionate his wishes and his possibilities long ago. The odds are that all Wampa population will turn into vegetarians all at once, than he will find happiness near the unexpected wonder that became real. Only now, when he met Ignis Tarkin, he realized what he was lacking in his life so intensely.

"If you do not try to change something, nothing will ever change," she said quietly, "and then the easiest way is to seat and regret that fate didn't give us the chance to behave like this or like that. To regret that there is no opportunity to replay your life, to correct all mistakes, to live through the path from the start. And one may just make a decision and cross the line."

"Cross the line…" Piett echoed.

She is right, he thought. If he cowardly will give up now, he will terribly regret about his indecision and lost opportunity for the rest of his life. In the end what is the risk? Risk is to be rejected. He is not a boy already and somehow will survive it.

Ignis was staring with unseeing eyes at glittering lights of Coruscant. Her face was strained and concentrated as if she was listening to something very important but inaccessible to his ears.

And then Piett made a decision.

He released railings that he was clutching at in agitation with all his strength, stepped forward and appeared right in front of Ignis. She blinked; strained expression almost immediately vanished from her face and was changed with… gladness? Expectation? Hope? He didn't begin to guess, just very carefully and slowly drew her to himself, every second waiting for outbreak of indignation or protest. Against all his expectations she didn't feel insulted, didn't pushed him away, but raised her hand and tenderly, slightly touching, caressed his cheek. Piett closed his eyes for a moment, trying to memorize the sensation of her palm on his face, and then just kissed her.

… He didn't know how long their first kiss lasted – one instant or the whole eternity. When he at lasttore himself away from her lips, Coruscant's skyscrapers were glittering with lights just like before their kiss, numerous speeders, flyers and air buses were hastening somewhere above their heads, army and navy were still celebrating the Imperial anniversary. Imperial fleet again and again was trying to track down and destroy the Rebel Alliance on the periphery of the Galaxy. But for Piett this world had changed _once and for all_. Now _she_ was in it.

When he was vainly trying to take control over his voice and say something coherent and proper to the situation, she threw back her head and smiled. This smile took Piett's breath away. And then he kissed her again. And again, and again, totally dissolving in infinite, overwhelming feeling that was hitherto unknown for him.

… They were standing on the terrace, holding each other tightly, as if they at last met each other after a long, very long separation. She whispered something in a melodious language that Piett didn't recognize. An idea that it's the language of her home Eruadu flashed in his mind and vanished at once, ousted with vortex of amazing, stunning emotions he never felt before, with neither of his ex-girlfriends. Now he was slowly kissing Ignis's neck right under her ear, inhaling her perfume and more and more losing his self-control. And when she suddenly tensed all her muscles and said something, he didn't understand a single word. Then she repeated more loudly and insistently:

"Please, captain, stop it immediately."

He didn't response, fully engrossed with one and only thought - to take her quickly away from this terrace to the more quiet and remote place, then sit down next to her, take her hand and analyse properly what is happening with them so… inconceivable. That's why he was very surprised when she set her hands against his chest and gently but firmly moved away from him.

"But… Why?!" he didn't believe his ears and felt confused.

"Don't!" Ignis was panting. "Please, get away from me, immediately!"

"I can't" whispered Piett. "I can't live without you anymore, ma'am Tarkin. Since the moment when I saw you in the conference hall, you are _everything_ for me."

He hold her wrists, carefully draw aside her hands and tried to kiss her once more. And then something unimaginable happened.

She disengaged herself brusquely and gave him a slap in the face.

Piett shrunk back, deeply shocked to the marrow of his bones with such a sudden change. And became paralyzed, because he saw something that she couldn't see – she was still facing Coruscant.

The door leading to the terrace was now opened and three men were staring at him – grand-moff Tarkin, brigadier general Tagge and high-ranking officer with insignia of a General of the Army. Several startled adjutants stood still behind their backs.

Ignis noticed Piett's face, quickly turned round, silently gasped and pressed palm on her lips.

Grand-moff was first who broke the silence.

"Captain, immediately take the trouble to explain what's going on here," said he in an icy tone, measuring Piett with his eyes with an extremely hostile gaze.

"I dare say here's nothing to explain. Everything is absolutely clear," General of the Army screwed up his eyes. Tagge said nothing, but Piett didn't like the glance he casted at him and then at Ignis.

"Nothing is…" she began but grand-moff interrupted her roughly: "I will talk to you later! Now shut up! I don't want to hear a single word from you! So, captain, we are waiting!"

Piett kept dispirited silence. What could he say? That fate cruelly and ingeniously laughed at him? First beckoned him with something inexpressibly beautiful and then bitterly deceived him?

"I wonder how an Imperial officer permitted himself to treat a lady with such an improper way," said General of the Army.

Piett at last unclenched his fists, raised his head and straightened his shoulders. Everything is over now; he must somehow accept and endure it. He will heal his spiritual wounds later.

"Grand-moff Tarkin, generals, I unintentionally insulted ma'am Tarkin with my actions and sincerely apologize for that," politely said he with formal tone and bowed a little.

"I'm afraid that your excuses are not enough, captain," coldly answered grand-moff. "My surname, as you know for sure, is also Tarkin. Thus, you insulted not only my niece but me too. I suppose you'd better think about your behavior somewhere under lock and key."

Piett heard how Ignis breathed in the air. It's interesting, he thought, is she now glad or sorry? But can he really hope for regret if she gave him a slap in the face a few minutes ago?

Grand-moff shifted his heavy gaze to Ignis.

"Immediately go home, I will be back soon and we will talk very thoroughly."

"I'm not going…" she again tried to answer, now with an evident challenge in her voice, but again couldn't finish. Tagge approached quickly, grasped her hand firmly and, overcoming her resistance, took her away from the terrace. General of the Army and his adjutants followed them. Only grand-moff and his three lieutenants were standing on the terrace.

Other guests heard conversation on a higher pitch of voice and began to look into the open door. The better way to enliven boring celebrations is a sudden scandalous incident, said Piett to himself gloomy.

"Be so kind as to introduce you according to all the rules," hissed Tarkin. "I want to know the name of the officer who insulted my family!"

"Captain Firmus Piett, General staff of the Coruscant," insipidly answered Piett and felt that all feelings gradually abandoned him except hopeless, gloomy anguish. Huge and wonderful world, lately flourishing with all colours of the rainbow, instantly become a dreary, despondent and grey place.

"Your direct commander will be very surprised when he'll find out what actions his subordinates are capable of, Piett," grand-moff didn't call him captain, what was a bad sign both in army and navy. "I will do my best and you will remember your mistake for a very long time," Tarkin eyed Piett loathingly from head to foot, turned to adjutants and ordered: "Convey him immediately to our Eight Level naval base and make sure that he will be locked up in the most comfortless quarters. Until I'll decide what will be his further penalty."

_To be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N. I apologize for being so late with the next chapter, but I have a reasonable excuse - had lost my job. My design organization was suddenly liquidated even without any wage compensation. Then for four months I was searching for a new job and at the same time was working at home. Had to time not only for translation - was so exhausted and tired that had no will to watch movies or TV-shows in the evening, and this is absolutely abnormal for me, crazy movie fan :). After a few job interviews I started working in a construction company and after three months of probation period they took me on to the staff. And all this time I had soooo many tasks to do! But rush job can't last forever and now I have some free time for my Piett :).
> 
> Thanks to everybody who was patiently waiting! :)
> 
> Now I will answer to your reviews and comments here, in the end of each chapter.

**Chapter 4**

According to the order delivered by the deeply insulted and angry grand-moff, lieutenants strongly grasped Piett's arms and convoyed him out of the conference hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Piett saw confused face of shocked and perplexed Needa. Nobody else paid any attention to what was happening to him - if Navy captain is guarded from the Imperial anniversary, then there is a serious reason for it.

Piett, of course, could offer resistance to Tarkin's adjutants, could loudly express the objection so that a few accidental eyewitnesses of his factually arrest, who were standing right near the door that was leading to the terrace, could find out that an injustice is happening. But he had neither energy nor wish to do something. He only wanted to stay alone. 

Adjutants convoyed him to the landing platform and demanded a transport from security guards. Then they handcuffed Piett and rudely forced him into the flyer. 

All the way to the naval base Piett kept silence, steadily looking at his handcuffed - like he is some criminal! - hands. His head was completely empty; not a single idea about things that happened on that terrace, although he understood that he must be now raging with indignation and suffering bitter mortification. It astonished him a little - but nothing more. He felt like his whole being was frozen and petrified and he had no ability to feel anything anymore, as if a huge dose of the strongest anesthetic was injected in his heart and soul. Probably the pain will come later, he was thinking torpidly while their flyer landed on and he with his guards moved along the wide corridor. Let the pain come. Now he does not care.

Shortly after a heavy plastisteel door slammed behind his back. Piett slowly looked round a small square cell, then sat on the plastisteel bunk and wearily reclined to the wall, rubbing his wrists that were numbing after the handcuffs.

Everything is over. Awkward and stupid tragicomedy named "Fate gives Firmus S. Piett an unexpected gift" ended at last. In spite of his officer rank guards took away his documents and put him in a miserable doghouse as if he is a pathetic ensign. Now he should wait until Tarkin will think up a severe punishment. It will happen - he casted a glance at his wristwatch - in five or six hours; unlikely that grand-moff lefts the Imperial anniversary and starts to shape his destiny immediately, even though he was very, very angry and indignant.

It is interesting there will be a court-martial and what he will be accused of, Piett thought. Of course, he will be immediately expelled from the General Staff - it is obvious. And the sentence depends on the gravity of accusation; everything can end up too badly, especially if remember the wrath and hatred that were flaring in grand-moff's eyes.

But why Ignis gave him a slap in the face? If he was so unpleasant to her, why didn't she pushed him away straight after he touched her? Why didn't she said - captain, stop it right now and get away from me?

No. It is enough. Stop!

He tried to break the train of his thought.

Do not think about that unfortunate terrace. About those kisses. Do not think about anything at all. 

Why the soul numbness that he had during the way here vanished so quickly?

Piett sullenly groaned - he felt angry with himself, with untimely arrived grand-moff with his companions, with all this crazy evening - and fisted the plastisteel bunk. Acute pain brought him a little to his senses. He hunched, took his head in hands, harnessed all his willpower and tried to focus on the unfinished report concerning Chandrila disorders. Apparently he will not submit it, but maybe he can be able to abstract himself from the situation for a while.

Alas. Frankly it did not worked at all. Piett screwed face into a smile - he did not had a chance to become an exemplary Imperial officer. As it turned out, he is simple-hearted and naive fool, who thought that something wonderful happened in his steady, boring and monotonous life...

Time hung heavy. Piett was nervously pacing the cell, then sat back on the bunk and continued his bitter thoughts. He felt angry to himself, to his own weak will, because he could not calm down and compose features.

After an hour, a headache started to torment him. Not very strong, but quite unpleasant pulsation in his hindhead foreshowed that the worst feelings are already close. After some time Piett lied down on the hard and uncomfortable bunk and closed his eyes. He could see the harsh white light even through the lids. He closed his eyes tight and prepared for gloomy thoughts but suddenly someone put the crimp in a scheme.

Plastisteel door clanged and opened. Piett raised himself upon an elbow in astonishment, wondering who knows that he is here, under the arrest.

On the threshold stood Tagge and two Army lieutenants.

Piett sat. Brigadier general was the last man he would like to see. Tagge looked at him silently with a grim expression on his face, and Piett started to have a bad feeling about his visit. This feeling came true very quickly.

"Captain Piett, I hope you already began to realize your mistake?", very calmly asked Tagge; Piett involuntarily feeled uncomfortable and suddenly tensed.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's start from the fact that you are not reduced to the rank and must stand up in the presence of a ranking officer."

Piett stood up from his bunk and in superlatives obediently sprang to attention.

"Now, general, would you be so kind to explain what a terrible mistake I did?"

"I don't like when somebody touches something or anobody that belongs to me," Tagge balefully narrowed eyelids.

"Oh, you mean Ignis Tarkin, right? Well, I thought that slavery is already eradicated in our great Empire, except the hard-to-reach places of the Galaxy, like the Hutt sector", after a second halt Piett said.

"You grasp quite quickly, but still not quickly enough," Tagge nodded in approval. "Now listen very carefully, captain. If some day you will dare to come close to my fiancee or even touch her with a little finger, you will live to regret it." 

Ah, that's the truth of it, Piett thought. He was in vain trying to mortify the wave of bitter disappointment. Everything is absurdly simple - lady Tarkin just decided to stroke her ego before wedding and for the last flirt with a first comer.

"I had no idea that she is somebody's fiancee and much less your fiancee", Piett answered icily. "I've already apologized once and now repeat it, personally for you. I suppose, this misconception is over now?"

"Not really," Tagge gave him a grating smile. "You must digest the lesson to a nicety."

He turned his head a little to the lieutenants, who were still waiting near the door. They - as if received a signal - came closer and seized by Piett's arms, and he immediately understood with a desperate certainty that they will beat him. And, unfortunately, didn't made a mistake.

Tagge deliberately slowly came closer, and Piett very clearly saw a joyful anticipation in his eyes. He didn't tried to escape from the grasp - lieunenants were taller and heavier; with only one he could try to deal with, but against two of them and plus Tagge, who was also a man of strong frame, he has not the ghost of chance.

Brigadier general in a deadpan manner looked down on Piett for some moment and then fetched a wipe right in the coeliac plexus. Piett gasped and doubled over from a sharp pain, but lieutenants quickly made him straighten. Piett was trying to start breathing again, when Tagge stepped back, as if he was enjoying the result, and then hit again, in the same place. Now lieutenants for some reason released Piett's hands and he collapsed on the floor. He instinctively pulled his knees to the stomach, protected head and chest with hands and, breathless and bent double with pain, was waiting for continuation. Everything was swimming before his eyes; he dimly saw highly polished boots in front of him. Waves of strong nausea were hitting him. From somewhere Piett heard voice of the brigadier general:

"No, it won't do. Lift him and hold properly!"

Lieutenants grasped him again and rudely raised up, but he could not stand - had rubbery legs.

"Captain, you are a mollycoddle! Feel seedy because of only a couple of beats?" Tagge mockingly grinned.

Piett pulled himself together and in a suppressed voice said what he thinks right now about a valiant, who decided to get even with the help of two assistants.

"Alas. You still don't fully understand what I wanted to tell you," Tagge ruefully stated. " We had to repeat."

Repetition was much worse. This time they let him fall down and brigadier general hit Piett when he was  
crouching on the floor, aiming generally to ribs and knees. Piett also received a few kicks in the stomach; he was writhing of the cold plastisteel, hardly noticing that Tagge wants to torment him as much as possible and at the same time don't let him faint away.

Piett realized very dimly, already on the edge of the unconsciousness, when brigadier general glut himself with drubbing. As in a fog, he heard Tagge's satisfied voice:

"Now I'm absolutely sure that you, captain, had digested the lesson perfectly. But if someday your memory plays you false and you will forget about my visit, I will destroy you. Will grind to powder. Will feed you alive to the rancor. And this," he grabbed Piett, who was in a subconscious state, at the collar of his uniform, "is a dessert."

Very strong blow followed after a second; for the first time in his life Piett understood the exact meaning of the phrase "see stars" and then finally fainted.

...It was cold that brought Piett to his senses - floor in the cell also was plastisteel. He slowly regained conscience and was laying almost without movement, listening to his body's condition. He felt strong pain in the left side of the chest from the slightest move; his stomach and knees were aching. After some time, understanding that he could not lay on the floor forever, Piett tried to sit, but terrible headache made him forget about squeamishness. He clenched teeth and pressed his forehead to the floor - cold a little weakened clutches his poor head was in.

Slowly, hardly taking breath and trying not to do any abrupt movements, he on all fours reached a bunk, muttering all oaths he could remember. He could stand up very slowly and only basing himself upon the bunk. After a second everything reeled before eyes and he had to sit immediately, and after a couple of minutes - to lay down.

Piett hardly managed to get comfortable and gently touched his smarting cheekbone. Blood covered his fingers and turgidity was big enough. Apparently, Tagge had a finger-ring - he could not cut skin so deeply only with his fist. Piett took out a handkerchief, cleaned the blood - without a mirror he was not sure in the satisfactory result - and closed his eyes. Tagge had better killed him right here, Piett thought dolefully and winced from a headache. He would not be suffering now, in all senses.

It was uncomfortable lying on back, all his body was aching. Piett turned to the wall and ordered himself to breath evenly - it seemed that the pulsation in the temples and nape becomes a little less unbearable. And didn't noticed, how fall asleep or maybe fainted one more time.

To be continuedAccording to the order delivered by the deeply insulted and angry grand-moff, lieutenants strongly grasped Piett's arms and convoyed him out of the conference hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Piett saw confused face of shocked and perplexed Needa. Nobody else paid any attention to what was happening to him - if Navy captain is guarded from the Imperial anniversary, then there is a serious reason for it.

Piett, of course, could offer resistance to Tarkin's adjutants, could loudly express the objection so that a few accidental eyewitnesses of his factually arrest, who were standing right near the door that was leading to the terrace, could find out that an injustice is happening. But he had neither energy nor wish to do something. He only wanted to stay alone. 

Adjutants convoyed him to the landing platform and demanded a transport from security guards. Then they handcuffed Piett and rudely forced him into the flyer. 

All the way to the naval base Piett kept silence, steadily looking at his handcuffed - like he is some criminal! - hands. His head was completely empty; not a single idea about things that happened on that terrace, although he understood that he must be now raging with indignation and suffering bitter mortification. It astonished him a little - but nothing more. He felt like his whole being was frozen and petrified and he had no ability to feel anything anymore, as if a huge dose of the strongest anesthetic was injected in his heart and soul. Probably the pain will come later, he was thinking torpidly while their flyer landed on and he with his guards moved along the wide corridor. Let the pain come. Now he does not care.

Shortly after a heavy plastisteel door slammed behind his back. Piett slowly looked round a small square cell, then sat on the plastisteel bunk and wearily reclined to the wall, rubbing his wrists that were numbing after the handcuffs.

Everything is over. Awkward and stupid tragicomedy named "Fate gives Firmus S. Piett an unexpected gift" ended at last. In spite of his officer rank guards took away his documents and put him in a miserable doghouse as if he is a pathetic ensign. Now he should wait until Tarkin will think up a severe punishment. It will happen - he casted a glance at his wristwatch - in five or six hours; unlikely that grand-moff lefts the Imperial anniversary and starts to shape his destiny immediately, even though he was very, very angry and indignant.

It is interesting there will be a court-martial and what he will be accused of, Piett thought. Of course, he will be immediately expelled from the General Staff - it is obvious. And the sentence depends on the gravity of accusation; everything can end up too badly, especially if remember the wrath and hatred that were flaring in grand-moff's eyes.

But why Ignis gave him a slap in the face? If he was so unpleasant to her, why didn't she pushed him away straight after he touched her? Why didn't she said - captain, stop it right now and get away from me?

No. It is enough. Stop!

He tried to break the train of his thought.

Do not think about that unfortunate terrace. About those kisses. Do not think about anything at all. 

Why the soul numbness that he had during the way here vanished so quickly?

Piett sullenly groaned - he felt angry with himself, with untimely arrived grand-moff with his companions, with all this crazy evening - and fisted the plastisteel bunk. Acute pain brought him a little to his senses. He hunched, took his head in hands, harnessed all his willpower and tried to focus on the unfinished report concerning Chandrila disorders. Apparently he will not submit it, but maybe he can be able to abstract himself from the situation for a while.

Alas. Frankly it did not worked at all. Piett screwed face into a smile - he did not had a chance to become an exemplary Imperial officer. As it turned out, he is simple-hearted and naive fool, who thought that something wonderful happened in his steady, boring and monotonous life...

Time hung heavy. Piett was nervously pacing the cell, then sat back on the bunk and continued his bitter thoughts. He felt angry to himself, to his own weak will, because he could not calm down and compose features.

After an hour, a headache started to torment him. Not very strong, but quite unpleasant pulsation in his hindhead foreshowed that the worst feelings are already close. After some time Piett lied down on the hard and uncomfortable bunk and closed his eyes. He could see the harsh white light even through the lids. He closed his eyes tight and prepared for gloomy thoughts but suddenly someone put the crimp in a scheme.

Plastisteel door clanged and opened. Piett raised himself upon an elbow in astonishment, wondering who knows that he is here, under the arrest.

On the threshold stood Tagge and two Army lieutenants.

Piett sat. Brigadier general was the last man he would like to see. Tagge looked at him silently with a grim expression on his face, and Piett started to have a bad feeling about his visit. This feeling came true very quickly.

"Captain Piett, I hope you already began to realize your mistake?", very calmly asked Tagge; Piett involuntarily feeled uncomfortable and suddenly tensed.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's start from the fact that you are not reduced to the rank and must stand up in the presence of a ranking officer."

Piett stood up from his bunk and in superlatives obediently sprang to attention.

"Now, general, would you be so kind to explain what a terrible mistake I did?"

"I don't like when somebody touches something or anobody that belongs to me," Tagge balefully narrowed eyelids.

"Oh, you mean Ignis Tarkin, right? Well, I thought that slavery is already eradicated in our great Empire, except the hard-to-reach places of the Galaxy, like the Hutt sector", after a second halt Piett said.

"You grasp quite quickly, but still not quickly enough," Tagge nodded in approval. "Now listen very carefully, captain. If some day you will dare to come close to my fiancee or even touch her with a little finger, you will live to regret it." 

Ah, that's the truth of it, Piett thought. He was in vain trying to mortify the wave of bitter disappointment. Everything is absurdly simple - lady Tarkin just decided to stroke her ego before wedding and for the last flirt with a first comer.

"I had no idea that she is somebody's fiancee and much less your fiancee", Piett answered icily. "I've already apologized once and now repeat it, personally for you. I suppose, this misconception is over now?"

"Not really," Tagge gave him a grating smile. "You must digest the lesson to a nicety."

He turned his head a little to the lieutenants, who were still waiting near the door. They - as if received a signal - came closer and seized by Piett's arms, and he immediately understood with a desperate certainty that they will beat him. And, unfortunately, didn't made a mistake.

Tagge deliberately slowly came closer, and Piett very clearly saw a joyful anticipation in his eyes. He didn't tried to escape from the grasp - lieunenants were taller and heavier; with only one he could try to deal with, but against two of them and plus Tagge, who was also a man of strong frame, he has not the ghost of chance.

Brigadier general in a deadpan manner looked down on Piett for some moment and then fetched a wipe right in the coeliac plexus. Piett gasped and doubled over from a sharp pain, but lieutenants quickly made him straighten. Piett was trying to start breathing again, when Tagge stepped back, as if he was enjoying the result, and then hit again, in the same place. Now lieutenants for some reason released Piett's hands and he collapsed on the floor. He instinctively pulled his knees to the stomach, protected head and chest with hands and, breathless and bent double with pain, was waiting for continuation. Everything was swimming before his eyes; he dimly saw highly polished boots in front of him. Waves of strong nausea were hitting him. From somewhere Piett heard voice of the brigadier general:

"No, it won't do. Lift him and hold properly!"

Lieutenants grasped him again and rudely raised up, but he could not stand - had rubbery legs.

"Captain, you are a mollycoddle! Feel seedy because of only a couple of beats?" Tagge mockingly grinned.

Piett pulled himself together and in a suppressed voice said what he thinks right now about a valiant, who decided to get even with the help of two assistants.

"Alas. You still don't fully understand what I wanted to tell you," Tagge ruefully stated. " We had to repeat."

Repetition was much worse. This time they let him fall down and brigadier general hit Piett when he was  
crouching on the floor, aiming generally to ribs and knees. Piett also received a few kicks in the stomach; he was writhing of the cold plastisteel, hardly noticing that Tagge wants to torment him as much as possible and at the same time don't let him faint away.

Piett realized very dimly, already on the edge of the unconsciousness, when brigadier general glut himself with drubbing. As in a fog, he heard Tagge's satisfied voice:

"Now I'm absolutely sure that you, captain, had digested the lesson perfectly. But if someday your memory plays you false and you will forget about my visit, I will destroy you. Will grind to powder. Will feed you alive to the rancor. And this," he grabbed Piett, who was in a subconscious state, at the collar of his uniform, "is a dessert."

Very strong blow followed after a second; for the first time in his life Piett understood the exact meaning of the phrase "see stars" and then finally fainted.

...It was cold that brought Piett to his senses - floor in the cell also was plastisteel. He slowly regained conscience and was laying almost without movement, listening to his body's condition. He felt strong pain in the left side of the chest from the slightest move; his stomach and knees were aching. After some time, understanding that he could not lay on the floor forever, Piett tried to sit, but terrible headache made him forget about squeamishness. He clenched teeth and pressed his forehead to the floor - cold a little weakened clutches his poor head was in.

Slowly, hardly taking breath and trying not to do any abrupt movements, he on all fours reached a bunk, muttering all oaths he could remember. He could stand up very slowly and only basing himself upon the bunk. After a second everything reeled before eyes and he had to sit immediately, and after a couple of minutes - to lay down.

Piett hardly managed to get comfortable and gently touched his smarting cheekbone. Blood covered his fingers and turgidity was big enough. Apparently, Tagge had a finger-ring - he could not cut skin so deeply only with his fist. Piett took out a handkerchief, cleaned the blood - without a mirror he was not sure in the satisfactory result - and closed his eyes. Tagge had better killed him right here, Piett thought dolefully and winced from a headache. He would not be suffering now, in all senses.

It was uncomfortable lying on back, all his body was aching. Piett turned to the wall and ordered himself to breath evenly - it seemed that the pulsation in the temples and nape becomes a little less unbearable. And didn't noticed, how fall asleep or maybe fainted one more time.

_To be continued_


End file.
